


Whole

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce knows better than to eavesdrop. But knowing better & doing better are two different things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whole

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 061507 Prompt #1 _Overheard -- The concept goes like this: Somebody overhears someone talking about them, or finds out something that they're not supposed to know._

Bruce eased the phone back into the cradle. He sat, still, stared into nothing. It seemed so silent without the warmth of Dick's laughing tones in his ear, and he was suddenly uncomfortable, tight-chested. Unable to move.

 _Oh yeah, I've thought of everything. No, I'm serious! What could possibly go wrong?_

He'd picked up, brought the phone to his ear by rote to check for the dialtone, had needed to make a call. Bruce hadn't intended to eavesdrop, to find out what wasn't his business. What Dick had chosen not to share with him.

 _I can't wait either. Of course he has no idea. We both know how well that'd go. He can't know_ everything _, and this time? That's totally for the best._

Bruce's mouth was dry, stuck in a stupid stammer. He'd never believed he'd resent Dick finding - something. Someone. Always believed despite himself and what he'd carried deep inside, for so long, he could push past. Continue to hide. Accept it somehow.

 _Tonight. Waited this long, can't wait any longer._

He stood, suddenly. Kicked back his chair then went nowhere. Start and stop and he closed his eyes. Heard Dick take the stairs, light step he'd know anywhere, that sounded so eager and anticipatory. Ready.

It'd been Tim on the other end. Tim that Dick made plans with, burred so adoringly to, craving clear in his voice. Tim who laughed in return, encouraged, clearly just as wanting.

Bruce sank into his chair again. Let his head fall into his hands. Listened to the shuffle of Dick's steps, bedroom to bedroom--Dick's to Tim's?--rustle and movement. Preparations.

 _What? I don't care what he says or how much he freaks. We both want it and I don't see any reason we should deny it anymore, ever again. It's happening._

He'd hung up, at that.

Bruce pushed himself to sit upright, took in a deep breath. Tried to make it steady and last to a count of ten as he let it out. So. Dick--and Tim. Like--that. Together.

He cleared his throat. Considered the details he'd overheard, those he hadn't. This was new, or at least newly acted upon. Maybe they'd messed around but tonight--their laughter, their secret intimacy--it was to be consummated.

Could they continue to function as Nightwing and Robin. Would it cloud their judgment out there, surrounded by Gotham and her perils. Her terrors. Would he be able to stand knowing they were together, stand seeing it, stand being told once they decided they could.

Stand not having Dick as his own, losing both of them to each other.

"Bruce?"

He didn't glance over. Threw the binder of budgeting for end-quarter Pacific shipping to the side of his desk, took up a pen. Proceeded to write notes without any coherency. He hummed in reply, after he'd bent forward, down, physically cut away from Dick, vibrant and expectant at the door.

Dick snorted, huffed a laugh at him. Bruce watched without looking. Dick stalk into the room, round the desk, hop on the broad walnut expanse just to his right.

"Bruce," Dick murmured. Reached a finger out and tapped it on Bruce's hand, stroked down to where he was almost snapping his pen in two. "Hey, look at me."

He schooled himself. Cold, hard. Bat and man. "Yes, Dick?" he asked, interested but distant, hidden, no trace in his eyes. The beat of his heart, controlled. The hold of his shoulder, relaxed and set. The tilt of his wrist to escape Dick's touch, measured.

Dick smiled, recaptured his hand, eased the pen free, lingered fingers caught around Bruce's. "Something I have to tell you."

He scowled at the stacks of paperwork, flicked back to Dick's waiting gaze. "Won't it keep?"

"Kept too damn long already," Dick whispered, sigh of want and frustration a tremor between them.

Bruce almost lost it, then. How long, he wanted to demand. Dick barely a man in his own right, Tim still a boy in so many ways. How long how much how far have you gone--on his tongue, tasted in his gut, hard-boil in his mind.

Instead the desk creaked when he wrapped both hands around it, jerked away from Dick, held on and held on and this could only end badly. Days from now flashed in his brain, them flirty and responsive and bright-pink cheeked, trying to stay undetected. Months from now them breathless, mussed, late to a Batmeet or a rooftop. Years from now them moved on, finally having to escape, tell him or not tell him they'd have no choice but to go.

He was so rigid and tightly coiled that when Dick landed in his lap he didn't budge, didn't react. So ready to be told about _Tim_ , about happiness and to be cajoled, not to judge, he didn't move when Dick's arms hooked his neck. So desperately trying not to break he only sat there when Dick's lips brushed over his.

"Bruce," Dick said, soft, simple. "I'm in love with you." Licked his lips, tinge of apprehension, bravely held ground.

All the pieces flew apart, mad scatter dash, pushed and twisted towards each other in a frantic rush. The conversation--him. _Him_. Tim knowing because it was Tim that could be trusted, Tim who could help. Tim who was Robin tonight, patrolling, said it was quiet be Mr Boring Executive, stay home and leave it to me.

Dick who had laughed, rushed around upstairs--made ready--fresh pitcher of water and drawn down blankets, a candle enlivening the shadows, Dick's things in Bruce's bedroom. Dick in Bruce's bed.

Bruce, who all of this was for.

Dick blinked at him, face tight and sharp, body tense and ready to fight. Despite his words to Tim, ready to be harshly treated, turned away, denied.

Bruce lifted, surged to his feet, hauled Dick with him, against him. Covered Dick's mouth, licked inside, encouraged the legs that boosted, encircled his waist. He groaned and Dick whimpered and they staggered in relief. Staggered forward to the door, up the stairs, tumbled and tripped in their haste.

After--hours, ages, perfect after--Dick rolled onto his side, rubbed Bruce's nose with a fingertip, caressed cheek and chin cleft, smiled. Let go and held the finger up, one moment, reached behind and fumbled for the communicator phone.

Grinned as it rang, snuggled comfortably into Bruce's arms. Contented sigh so secure that Bruce couldn't help but answer, grinned so wide Bruce could feel it when he heard Tim's--Robin's--impatient, giggling, demanding voice.

"Yeah," Dick answered, only. More than enough.

Robin whooped, loud enough for Bruce to easily overhear. Yelled _yay yay yay Dick awright I'll see to you tomorrow haha I knew it'd work knew he was a dirty old man for you oh my god don't tell me if it was good dude I'll be home in time for breakfast you two better be awake and there and talking and with details um purse snatching okay gotta go yay!_

Dick laughed. Dropped the phone. Went happy and easy as Bruce tucked him under, tucked into the spread of his legs, kissed and didn't let go.


End file.
